


Losers Like Us

by Plasticgalaxy



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Pocket Monsters: Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon | Pokemon Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon Versions
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Po Town, Sex, This was supposed to be PWP, but i got carried away, cis female reader, island challenge, team skull - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 19:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13324920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plasticgalaxy/pseuds/Plasticgalaxy
Summary: “I never did thank ya, by the way.” Guzma said quietly.“Thank me? For what?”“For bein’ a friend.” He paused. “I ain't got many of those.”





	Losers Like Us

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally fixing to write a Guzma smutfic, but then my intentions on PWP turned into this fluffy angsty thing that I shoehorned some porn into. Sorry not sorry.

“Meowth!” You cried out as the feline’s soft body hit the ground and rolled a few times. “Meowth, get up!” Despite your frantic shouts, Meowth’s body laid unnervingly still. The Vikavolt that had dealt the devastating lightning strike withdrew as Sophocles stood nearby awkwardly.

“Sorry kid,” he shifted, scratching at the back of his head, “maybe you’ll do better next time, yeah?”

You rushed to Meowth’s side. He was still breathing, thankfully, just knocked out cold. You scooped up his limp body, his purple fur soft between your fingers, and cradled him to your chest. He was going to need medical attention this time, for sure.

You and Meowth had been training for this for months. But no matter how many times you tried, you couldn’t beat Sophocles’ challenge. You were starting to give up hope that you’d complete the island challenge at all. It had taken years for you to even get to this point, and you were no longer a teenager. Younger children waiting for their turn to battle the totem snickered at you as you left the observatory, defeated.

Heading down the paved path towards the shuttle stop, you racked your brain to remember where the closest Pokemon Center clinic was. You were pretty sure you’d seen one just off the bottom of the mountain road, but you weren’t certain. Suddenly, a voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, lady, hand your pokemon over!” You looked up to find two of those Team Skull thugs standing between you and the shuttle stop and trying to be as imposing as they could.

“Leave us alone,” you said miserably, clutching Meowth a little tighter. He was still out cold, but unconsciously snuggled into you.

“Look, we need strong pokemon and you look like you fit the bill. So hand him over or we’re gonna take him, understand?” The other grunt explained. You laughed harshly.

“You think he looks strong? We just lost against this totem,” you jammed a thumb over your shoulder at the building behind you, “for the fourth time in a row. Stupid fucking island challenge.”

The first grunt frowned. “Ain’t you a little old to be doing the island challenge?”

In a fit of fury, you snatched the dangling charm off your purse and chucked it at the grunt, who easily deflected it. The two glanced at each other before advancing on you. 

“What's going on over here?” A sharp voice stopped the grunts dead in their tracks, and a young woman sauntered up behind them. She flipped her brightly colored pigtails over her shoulders and took each grunt by an ear, pinching her fingers until they writhed in pain. “I didn't bring you grunts here to terrorize trial goers.”

“We're sorry, Plumeria!” One grunt wailed, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as she continued to pull on his ear. 

Meowth stirred, but didn't wake. You focused your attention on him, making sure you held him as comfortably as you could and that his breathing was normal. Plumeria eyed you, her gaze trailing down to the ground and to the island challenge charm half-buried in the dusty dirt.

“Is this yours?” She asked, plucking it up and wiping the metal charm with her thumb. 

“Not anymore,” you replied bitterly, “screw the island challenge.” A sad smile graced Plumeria’s face briefly, before she tossed the charm back to the ground and extended a hand to you. 

“I'm Plumeria,” she gently grasped your free hand, “you seem like you could use a friend.”

 

 

* * *

 

You'd first heard about Team Skull when you were in high school. At the time they were a gang that had gathered around one of the kahunas who'd been relieved of his position by the Tapu itself. You never really paid much attention to it, except that a few gang members went to school with you and they were people to be feared. The very mention of Team Skull held weight back then.

While Team Skull was no longer the fearsome gang that it once was, their name still held weight. They were known for regularly harassing trial goers, stealing pokemon and either selling them or returning them for ransom money, and causing general mayhem on the Alolan Islands. 

Yet here you were, on the shuttle ride down the mountain, watching uneasily as Plumeria administered some medicine to your Meowth and gently coaxed him to consciousness. As the grunts sat in the seat behind you, bickering with each other, you wondered what their plans for you were. When you got to the bottom of the mountain, would they snatch Meowth and run? Would they shake you down for what little money you had? 

Plumeria gave the groggy Meowth a little scratch behind the ear before handing him back to you. “Most Pokémon get paralyzed from a blast like that. Meowth is lucky. Cute, too.” Meowth purred as he snuggled against you. 

“Thanks,” you responded with a guarded tone. The shuttle turned around the last switchback and you could see the stop up ahead. You clutched Meowth close. 

“So uh,” Plumeria cleared her throat, sensing your uneasiness. “No pressure or anything. But we're headed back to Po Town and you're welcome to join us. If you'd like.” 

“What!” One of the grunts shrieked from behind you. “You're inviting this  _ loser _ back to Po Town?” You shrunk down in your seat a little. Nothing like rubbing a little salt in the wound. Plumeria twisted around in her seat and gripped the offending grunt by the collar of his shirt. 

“Do I need to remind you that you didn't even make it past Kahuna Hala before you threw in the towel on your island trial?” She snapped at him before releasing him. He adjusted his bandana and glowered at the two of you. “We don't use that word in Team Skull.”

The shuttle began to slow as it approached the stop. You clutched your purse a little closer as the shuttle shuddered to a stop, the brakes releasing pressurized air with a loud hiss.

“Look, we're not gonna rob you,” Plumeria explained, rising from her seat. The grunts followed suit obediently. “If you decide to come with, I think you'll find yourself amongst friends.” 

You smiled weakly after them as they shuffled off the shuttle, weighing your options. You could simply go home, and have to explain to your mom why you were no longer doing the island challenge, a venture that she never approved of to begin with. Or you could tag along with Plumeria and the grunts and see what Po Town had in store for you. Even if it was a trap to beat you up and take you for everything you were worth, would it really be worse than the infinitely condescending “I told you so” speech your mother would put you through, plus the weeks of sideways comments she'd make at your expense? 

You found yourself running down the street as fast as you could, yelling breathlessly at Plumeria to wait up, Meowth howling in surprise as he clung to your neck.

 

* * *

 

Upon arrival at Po Town, you almost immediately regretted your decision. A tall wall surrounded the town, isolating it from everything around it. Houses crumbling with disrepair and overgrown with weeds lined the path that meandered up to the front gate. No one, except the rattatas who could be seen skittering in the shadows as you approached, wanted to live or exist near Team Skull. Storm clouds seemed to coalesce over this doomed town, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Who goes there?” A grunt shouted from behind a ramshackle door. 

“It's me you idiot, open up.” Plumeria planted her hands on her hips impatiently. 

“What's the password?” The voice from the other side of the door called. 

“I swear to Tapu Bulu if you don't open this gate right now, you're gonna regret ever being born.”

There was a scuffle from the other side of the door, followed by another voice saying, “dude, you want Guzma to beat both our butts?” The gate creaked open, and two grunts, their faces obscured by bandanas, bounded out to wrap Plumeria up in a hug. 

“We're so glad you're back!” One of them cried out as Plumeria wrapped an arm around each of them and led them back in. You followed close behind, and the grunts who were with you closed and locked the gate once you were all safely behind it. 

“Boss is in a bad mood today!” The other grunt wailed. While the grunts continued to hang off of Plumeria and whine about their day, treating her more like a big sister than the underboss of a widespread gang, you took a look around you. You'd heard a lot of whispers and rumors about Po Town, and none of them were good. The buildings here were covered in graffiti, trash and random pieces of furniture littered front lawns, and a few grunts and gang members hung around, glaring silently as the group of you passed by. Even Meowth was on edge, his little claws digging into your shoulder. A light drizzle began to fall.

You followed Plumeria and the grunts to a looming mansion at the end of the street. It probably would’ve been a beautiful building had it not been for some broken windows, the ever present graffiti, and vines creeping up the brick walls.

Once inside, the grunts dispersed to various side rooms and hallways. The heavy bass beat of music played somewhere else in the house thumped through the ceiling.

“Make yourself at home. No one's gonna give you problems, and if they do, you come see me.” Plumeria gestured to what would be the living room area of the mansion, if it were properly decorated. Chairs and couches were placed haphazardly, three grunts sat around a cardboard box playing poker, and Zubats hung from the dusty chandelier. Despite being the only one not wearing some kind of Team Skull paraphernalia, no one paid you any mind. 

“Anyway,” Plumeria continued, “I'm gonna go make some tapu cocoa for everyone. The kitchen's right over there if you need me.” She gave Meowth a little scratch behind the ear before heading down the hall.

“Can I pet your Meowth?” A small voice came from behind you. The grunt who looked up at you with big brown eyes couldn't be any older than 12 or 13. She wrung her hands nervously. Another grunt, a teenager, sidled up next to her.

“Me too?” He asked hopefully.

Seeing such young kids in the gang broke your heart. They seemed so pure, so innocent. What turned them over to Team Skull? How far had they fallen? The two of them inched closer, and Meowth curiously sniffed their hands. After a moment of contemplation, you handed Meowth off to the older grunt. His grin and eyes widened in elation as he gingerly cradled Meowth, who reached up and pawed the kid’s nose. The two kids giggled excitedly as they showered Meowth with gentle attention, and their smiles were contagious.

A door off to the side opened, and out stepped a rather sour looking young man with unruly white hair and a heavy gold chain around his neck. He was tailed by several other Team Skull grunts, all seemed to be vying for his attention. Despite his slouch, he had an air of authority about him, and if you had to guess, this was Team Skull’s boss. But as he walked past, ignorant of your presence, a chord of recognition struck within you.

“...George?” The name left your mouth before you’d even formed the thought. The white-haired man stopped dead in his tracks, frozen for a moment. He glared around at the grunts surrounding him, desperately searching their faces.

“Who said that?” He demanded of them.

“George…?” One of the grunts echoed, glancing between you and the boss, her eyes slowly widening in realization. Bossman grabbed her by the collar and gave her a good shake.

“If I hear that name one more time, I’m gonna start knockin’ heads together, ya hear?” As the captured grunt glanced sidelong at you, the other ones shrunk back in quiet acknowledgement. The boss followed his prey’s line of sight to you, then released her roughly. He stepped up to you with as much intimidation as he could muster, and planted his fists on his hips.

“The name’s  _ Guzma, _ ” he spat, “and you’ll do well to remember that. Who the fuck are you anyway?”

“I’m…” You swallowed thickly as he stared down at you. Perhaps you’d been mistaken. You’d never remembered George to be like this.

“Never mind that.” He cut you off before you could even answer, shaking his head. “You wanna beg for forgiveness? See me in my room later.” Waving you off, he turned and ascended the grand staircase. A few grunts continued to tail him but others stayed behind, settling into seats and nooks in the living room. Almost everyone was eyeing you with either envy or worry, you couldn’t tell. A door somewhere upstairs slammed shut.

No, that was definitely George. He had different hair now, and spoke in a deeper voice, but there was no mistake about it. In high school, he’d been a loner who had high aspirations of becoming a captain or even a kahuna one day. He had a weird affinity for bug pokemon and he was teased relentlessly by the jocks, but that never once dampened his determination. You wouldn’t necessarily have considered him your friend, but you were one of the few who was actually friendly towards him. It almost came as a shock to you that he didn’t recognize you, but maybe you’d changed quite a bit since then, as well.

You’d always wondered what happened to George after high school. He’d moved out of his parents house, and then dipped under the radar. No one you knew had heard from him, and being the loner he was, he quickly slipped into obscurity. Was this really him though? Had he abandoned his dreams of becoming an island challenge captain and joined the notorious Team Skull instead?

There was only one way to find out.

You began to climb the stairs, but hesitated.  _ Meowth. _ Glancing back over your shoulder, it didn’t take you long to find him. He was surrounded by five elated young grunts now, one of who’d procured a piece of string and was dangling it above the bouncing feline. You breathed a sigh of relief. Meowth would be fine. You made your way up the stairs and to the door guarded by two older grunts.

“Whaddya want?” One of them asked you coldly.

“I’m here to speak to… uh… Guzma. Please.” 

The grunt eyed you for a moment, then disappeared into the room. You heard muffled voices behind the door, but couldn’t make out any words. The grunt reappeared a few moments later, leaving the door open for you to enter. He had a sinister smirk on his face, and dragged his thumb across his neck at you. You could only assume that you’d gotten yourself into some real hot water this time. But you had to find out.

The room you stepped into was in orderly chaos. A scenic painting on the wall had been scrawled over with Team Skull’s insignia. Various bottles lined a bookshelf, while books sat in stacks on the floor. A king-sized bed was shoved haphazardly against one wall, and a desk spilling over with z-crystals was against the other. In the middle of it all, a magnificent armoire and a set of drawers had been laid on the floor to create a platform on top of which sat an oversized easy chair upholstered with purple velvet. And in the throne lounged Guzma, looking quite malcontent with your presence. Two grunts sat on the makeshift steps created by the repurposed furniture, King Guzma’s loyal subjects.

“So, you decided to show your face.” Guzma grinned, but it was not out of happiness. It was a menacing sneer. “Care to explain yourself?” He waved a hand annoyedly at nothing in particular.

“I guess you don’t remember me.” You said quietly, studying his features. His smile faded, a frown clouding his face. He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to place it.

“Sweetness, we’ve never met before…” Guzma’s voice was suddenly quiet, lacking conviction. He seemed conflicted, unsure. The grunts looked up at him in surprise, and he ordered them out of the room. You looked down as the grunts passed you, and felt the full weight of Guzma’s stare as you heard the door click shut behind you.

“We went to high school together.” You looked back at Guzma, watching the confusion seep into his expression. After a pause, you continued. “I sat at your lunch table. A few times you didn’t have money for food and I gave you half of my sandwich. We were, uh,” you shifted your weight awkwardly as your gaze drifted towards the floor again, “we were on the same bus route for two years, before I moved across town.”

Guzma looked like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. He was staring at you, through you, past you. When you met his gaze, he shut his eyes tightly and pressed a palm to his forehead.

“Holy shit, I forgot all about that…”

“George, I—”

“Don’t.” He cut you off sharply, gripping at the arms of his easy chair with white knuckles. “Don’t call me that. I go by Guzma now.” He seemed to shake off his unease and uncertainty, and settled back down in the chair. The corners of his lips curled up into a wide, sinister grin once more. “I’m the big boss ‘round here.”

“Well, um, I’m glad to see you’re doing well for yourself.” You smiled meekly at him, feeling mixed emotions. He’d been such a kind soul. Despite his weird obsession with bugs, he had been one of the nicest people you’d ever met. What happened to him for him to end up here? What had turned him into such a hard-ass? A lump formed in your throat and you turned to leave. “I’ll just be going now.”

“Wait.”

You hesitated. It was a single word but the voice gripped you. For that brief moment, the facade of Guzma was gone. There was such pleading, such gentleness in that one spoken moment. When you turned back around, Guzma had descended from his throne. He was sitting on the bottom step, beckoning for you to come and sit with him.

“Let’s just… talk for a bit.” He suggested slowly. You had every mind to turn and walk out that door, to grab Meowth and go home like none of this had happened. But something inside you begged you to stay. You gave in to that little voice and before you knew it, you were sitting on the step next to Guzma, searching his face for answers.

“I thought you wanted to become a trial captain,” you found yourself blurting, “what happened? Why Team Skull?”

Guzma winced as if you’d slapped him, and a sad chuckle bubbled up from his gut as he hung his head.

“Y’ever notice?” He ruffled a hand through his bleached hair. “Team Skull is full of misfits. Outcasts. Losers. Kids who didn’t or couldn’t finish their island challenges.”

“You mean you…”

“Turns out, you gotta actually finish the island challenge before they can even consider you for trial captain.” He let out a harsh laugh, full of self-depreciation, as he balled his fists in his lap. He furrowed his brow, blinking furiously as if fighting back tears. “But what about you?” He asked suddenly.

“Me?”

“Well, you’re here.”

There was a weighted, awkward pause as you pondered the implication of his words. You thought of your discarded island challenge charm, lost in the dirt somewhere outside of the Hokulani Observatory.

“I… I gave up on my island challenge today.” You admitted. It sounded so stupid once you said it out loud. “I just couldn’t do it. I’m not putting Meowth through that anymore.”

“Yo, you got a Meowth?” Guzma’s expression brightened a bit. “You didn’t have any pokemon when we were in school.”

“I wasn’t allowed. Mom didn’t want me going off and having adventures like all the cool kids were doing. Made some excuse like I wasn’t ready for the responsibility of taking care of a pokemon.” You picked at the hem of your shorts.

“Didn’t stop me.” He leaned his elbow on the step, looking particularly smug. “I brought a whole mess o’ Wimpod home one day, three of ‘em. They wouldn’t stop following me around, so I thought, why not? Dad beat my ass for it.” He laughed, his stony gaze drifting off again. “Asshole kicked me out when they banned me from the island challenge. Said he didn’t raise his son to be a loser.”

“I’m so sorry,” you offered quietly. Guzma shrugged.

“S’life.”

An uneasy silence settled between the two of you again. You looked at Guzma, who was tracing circles in the throw rug draped over the repurposed cabinetry with his index finger. His face was twisted into a frowning pout, wrought with vulnerability. You suppressed an urge to reach out and touch him, to offer him a moment of tenderness when he’d experienced so much cruelty. When his eyes suddenly met yours, you looked away, biting your lip. You heard him inhale sharply, and when you looked back at him he lunged forward, cupping your face in his hands, capturing your lips gently with his.

The kiss took you entirely by surprise, but you’d have been lying if you said it was unwelcome. George had been a lanky, geeky kid in school. Guzma was tall, muscular, and had really grown into himself. You melted into the kiss, pressing your hands to his chest and tracing your fingertips up to his shoulders.

Suddenly, the door opened, the sound tearing you two away from each other at the speed of light, and a grunt came strolling in. “Hey boss, I was wonderin’...”

“Get. Out.” Guzma growled through clenched teeth, his face beet red.

“But I… uh…” The grunt stopped in his tracks, eyeing the two of you. You were trying your hardest to act casual. 

“ _ Out! _ ” Guzma roared, and the grunt scrambled out of the room. Guzma stomped after him, shutting and locking the door, and wedging a nearby chair under the door handle for good measure. “Now, where was I?”

As he sat back down next to you, drinking you up with a hungry look that made your knees weak, he took your hands in his and interlaced his fingers with yours. You wanted him to kiss you again, to press his body against yours and just take you. He sat for a moment, fiddling his thumbs against your knuckles and admiring the way your hands fit together. 

“I never did thank ya, by the way.” Guzma said quietly.

“Thank me? For what?” 

“For bein’ a friend.” He paused. “I ain't got many of those.”

You couldn't help it, your heart felt as if it would burst. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Guzma close and kissed him deeply. He reciprocated enthusiastically, trailing his hands up your arms, across your shoulders, and down your torso before settling at your waist, his fingers finding their way under your shirt and curling into the flesh of your back. You grazed his lower lip with your teeth, and he growled appreciatively.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, a searing heat behind his gaze as he pulled your body a little closer.

“Oh? Why not?” You nipped at his lip again, eliciting another low rumble from his throat. His hands found your backside and gave it a good squeeze.

“Because,” Guzma smooched your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck. “Ya boy might lose his cool.” He nestled into the crook of your neck and dragged his teeth across the flesh there. God, he wouldn’t be the only one losing his cool if this kept up. You pushed his shoulders back and relieved him of his hoodie.

“So, what if I…” You started, breathing over his skin before nipping at his lip, giving it a gentle tug before releasing it. He watched you for only a moment from under hooded lids as you sat back, grinning smugly at him. Unable to contain himself, he crawled over you, pushing you down and hooking one of your legs around his hips. He leaned down to kiss you, but his heavy chain necklace had other ideas. It swung forward and hit you in the chin.

“Fuck,” he huffed, grabbing the dangling pendant and throwing it over his shoulder. “Sorry about that, doll.” He was quickly forgiven as his hand found its way up your shirt, fondling one nipple through your bra as his mouth made work of your other breast. You arched up against him as his ministrations sent electric tingles down your spine.

As much as you wanted this to continue, though, the makeshift step of the throne platform was not the most comfortable place to lay. Especially with his belly settled between your legs, pushing your hips into a crossbeam of the set of drawers beneath you. You made a couple attempts to shift, but to no avail.

“Why don’t we take this to the bed?” You suggested. Guzma seemed to think it was a fantastic idea. He quickly picked you up, carrying you with your arms and legs wrapped around him, before throwing you down on the mess of comforters and climbing on top of you. The necklace slipped from behind his shoulder, clocking you in the cheekbone this time. Cursing, Guzma grabbed it and threw it over the other shoulder.

It was only a matter of time before you were stripped to your skivvies and Guzma had done away with his undershirt and sweatpants. His boxer briefs bulged out obscenely, barely containing the erection that he kept pressing into your thigh. He snaked a hand into your panties, tracing a finger along your slick folds before sinking it in, dragging a breathy moan out of you. A second finger joined it, hitting you in just that right spot, and you writhed in pleasure.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You pushed down his boxer briefs, freeing his cock, and he quickly kicked them off. As he reached over the side of the bed for a condom, you slipped your own panties off. He sat back on his heels as he slipped the condom on, drinking up every inch of your body with his eyes. You propped yourself up on your elbows.

“You just gonna look all day or you gonna fuck me?” You teased.

A grin spread across his face. “Don’t worry baby, I got you.” He crawled over you, slipping his cock against you a few times before finding purchase and filling you inch by glorious inch. He groaned as his eyelids fluttered.

The pace he initially set was unhurried, reveling in the touch of your skin against his and the taste of your lips and tongue. Your whines and moans in his ear and your fingernails in his back encouraged him to speed up a little. Before long, he’d sat up on his knees, holding your thighs firmly in place as he thrust into you. His necklace had somehow slipped to the front again, and was bouncing off of his stomach with his rhythm. It was ignorable until he doubled over in his ecstacy and the Team Skull pendant swung forward and hit him in the face.

Guzma nearly fell over out of surprise as you howled with laughter. He grappled clumsily with the necklace for a moment before relieving himself of it and tossing it to the other side of the room. Your giggles turned to gasps as his fingers found your clit, rubbing little circles around it in time with his thrusts.

“Ya like that?” He chuckled, and you only managed a moan in response. “That’ll teach you to laugh at ya boy.” You didn’t even care at this point. Heat pooled in your belly and if he stopped now, you just might die.

“Fuck… harder…” You managed to choke out. Guzma was more than happy to oblige as he rutted against you with reckless abandon, but not without making sure your clit was properly taken care of. The tightening coil in your core suddenly released and your body was racked with spasms of electricity. As your walls squeezed around his cock, Guzma’s  rhythm became erratic, and he groaned a string of expletives as he came.

He collapsed on top of you before rolling off to the side, and you both laid catching your breath for a moment. Afterglow washed over you and your eyelids grew heavy. 

“I should probably go soon,” you mused with a yawn. Guzma pulled a blanket over the both of you and snuggled up against you.

“Stay.” His tone was pleading. “With us. With me.” 

Despite sleep overcoming his features, his facial expression was genuine. It was a look you hadn't seen on his face since high school. Maybe Team Skull wasn’t so bad after all. Whatever this was, was certainly better than facing your condescending mother. You’d be willing to give this a shot.

You settled into Guzma’s embrace and answered his request with a simple kiss before falling asleep in his arms.


End file.
